The 50th Annual Hunger Games
by PiperHermione
Summary: The Hunger Games are an annual tradition, but we, the Hunger Game fans, have only experienced two: 74th, and 75th. We have missed the unique history behind all the mysterious survivors (or so called "victors") of the Games, creating an atmosphere of curiosity. What if each had a story? An exclusive tale to tell? Well, Fern, a young girl from District 10, certainly has one.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Game series. Full credit to Suzanne Collins.

"Fern, bring me the water bucket!" I heard Maria, my adoptive mother, call across the horse stable. The rough, furious of winds of District 12 complicated simple communication, making it impossible to speak in a normal tone.

"Coming, mother!" I tried to yell across the room, my voice resembling chalk scratching along an old, dry board. Having been sick for the last two weeks, my vocals were quite rough, along with a sore throat. At first, my condition did not seem too serious, giving me no accuse to avoid working on the ranch, but now, I was not too sure. The energy level in my body had been going down rapidly, leaving me in complete fatigue day after day. Each trip outside resulted in an episode of harsh, raspy coughs scraping at my throat. Yesterday, after I had attempted to visit a local doctor, he had refused to see me, and closed the door in my face. I was beginning to suspect the worst.

Kicking my way through the thick dirty snow littered with trash and dead leaves, I finally reached the water faucet at the back of the stable. Grabbing hold of the old, wooden bucket I began to fill it with ice cold water, only to be interrupted with another cough attack.

"Shit!" I cursed, unable to control my speech, having just spilled everything on my already frail body. Suddenly, I was on the ground, my muscles frozen in place. Everything was dark, not a sound.

"Fern! Fern! Wake up!" I heard through the firm shell of my sleep.

"Seth?" I muttered, wiping my hand sleepily across my face.

"You wish. It's me, Jake, your charming and _favorite_ brother," he smirked down at me, his face switching between an expression of confident smugness and extreme worry.

Looking around, I realized I was in bed, my head propped up against a hard straw pillow in my tiny room. The freshly painted wall had already begun to peel off, the soft yellow color turning into a dull brown, reminding me of a slow, unpleasant sunset. The miniature window behind my bed was slightly open, chilling snow gradually gathering on my newly created pillow.

"Jake?" I asked, my voice hoarse. "Where is Mom?"

I could see my question made him anxious from the sudden shaking of his left arm. Ever since I could remember it had been a habit, giving him away in more cases than I could possibly remember.

"Well," he mumbled uncomfortably, scratching his head. "You, uh. You are very contagious, and we, uh, thought it would be best if only I visited."

"Do I stand a chance?" I asked quietly, bringing myself into a series of raspy coughs.

There was no reply.

"Jake, where are you?" A familiar voice rang from the kitchen, followed by soft steps coming up the stairs.

"Mom," I called excitedly, only to be silenced by her tired, wary expression.

"Jake, its time," she said brokenly, gathering up my little brother and swiping him out the room, shutting the door as tight as possible.

However what surprised me the most was her expression. A look of utter sadness and disbelief, the look of a person who's given up, left all hope behind.

Now, there could be no other options. I had a disease which could not be cured here in 10, no matter how talented, rich, or intelligent the doctor was. I had pneumonia.

 **A lovely cliffhanger for my lovely readers! To make this story unique, I decided to create a main character from an obscure district little known to Hunger Game fans. Please leave a review and thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for reading my story!**

 **To make this story a little more relatable, I will add a character we all now for his unique personality: Haymitch Abernathy.**

It has been two days since I was first diagnosed (well, "diagnosed") with pneumonia, each day bringing with it a new, nasty surprise. At first, it was just coughing, but the symptoms had escalated, finally reaching their peak. I could barely breathe, and spent most of my day staring out into blank space, thoughts ranging away from reality, almost into a different world.

To my surprise, I was still required to attend reaping day, which happens to be in just an hour. They wanted everyone there, every single soul.

Crawling out of bed, I let myself cough until I could do so no more. As soon as I was done, I headed over to the closet, putting on a random dress, not even recognizing the color in my trance. Interestingly enough, the fatigue in which my frail body had been trapped in for the past week was subsiding, giving me the opportunity to stretch out my tired limbs.

This reaping would be my last, and after all, what had I left other than to enjoy it?

 _Stop it!_ I thought, scolding myself. _Your family needs you, there is no "give up" option._

I will stretch out my life-span as much a possible, to its very, absolute limits. I have to stay alive. For my family. For my friends.

"Fern, are you ready?" A quiet, timid voice asked through a small crack in the wooden door. "I'm sorry, but Mom is forbidding me to help."

"It's ok, I'm fine." I whispered, insensitive to the sadness in my brothers voice. "You go. I will come down a couple of minutes after, so you are not exposed to the virus."

Without answering, I heard Jake bolt down the stairs and out the front entrance, slamming the door in his hustle. Everyone had been so distant lately. So cautious. As though I was not a person anymore, more like a walking virus. I suppose it made sense, for everyone clings on to life with all their might. Not many will take the risk.

LINEBREAKLINEBREAKLINEBREAKLINEBREAKLINEBREAKLINEBREAK

Clambering down the dirty, snow covered street, I tried my best not to trip over wild chickens roaming the paths, avoiding all pedestrians. As soon as the Main Square became visible through my weak eyes, I was met by a pair of Peacekeepers, one of them handing me a protective mask.

"This will keep the virus from spreading," he commanded, slipping the elastic strings behind my ear. "Do not take it off."

"Ok," I muttered, silently merging in with the crowd, patiently waiting for the annual event to begin.

"Welcome, welcome to 50th Annual Hunger Games! Furthermore, a Quarter quell!" I heard the ridiculously dressed woman from the capital announce to the crowd. "First off, we have a film, to remind you of Panem's beautiful history!"

The speech was quickly followed by a short, pointless film about the "great" Panem. As everyone silently suffered through the video, I looked around, searching for Seth. To my surprise, I immediately found him, his bright blond hair giving him away instantly.

 _"How many times?"_ I mouthed.

 _"Forty-eight"_ he mouthed back, his expression blank.

Turning away, I thought about the unfairness of life. How could they let this happen? How could they let innocent children die in a bloody arena each year? How could they?

"Ladies first!" Sparkly, what the capital women called herself, exclaimed excitedly.

Digging her long-nailed hand into the bowl of names, about to decide the fate of a poor girl, she smiled, picking out a tiny paper.

"Willow Grace!" she exclaimed.

Before she had time to call the victim on stage, I was yet again, bent over ready for another cough attack. However, none came. Not a single sound. Furthermore, my throat felt softer, the painful rashes slowly disappearing. And thats when it came to me. A plan of survival. Another life.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" I yelled as loud as my voice allowed.

 **Cliffhanger yet again! Enjoy my readers!**

 **Please leave a review and show me your suggestions and critiques. I really appreciate it.**


End file.
